


falling (in love)

by shrubsun (kurokos)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Viktor is an idiot, and yuri is his long suffering brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokos/pseuds/shrubsun
Summary: Viktor gets hurt for the sake of love. Repeatedly.or,Four times Viktor Nikiforov makes a fool out of himself in front of his gorgeous neighbor, Yuuri Katsuki





	falling (in love)

**Author's Note:**

> if you thought i beta'ed this ... you'd be wrong  
> honestly i don't even know what this is i found this in my drafts and i decided to just post it without reading through it bc.. bc

Viktor, objectively speaking, is having the worst day of his life. 

The fact that it is not even ten in the morning is besides the point. Viktor had started his morning by realizing. That he had forgotten to set his alarm the night before, meaning that he had woken up two hours later than he was supposed to,  _ meaning  _ that what  _ did _ wake him up was the continuous calls of one Yuri Plisetsky-Nikiforov, who he had promised to meet up with for breakfast at 8:45 before going to their intermediate Japanese class together. 

“Where the hell  _ are  _ you, old man?!”

“Sorry, Yura,” Viktor apologizes again, pressing his cell phone to his cheek while trying to slip a sock onto his left foot. 

“I don't care if you’re sorry. Just get here,” Yura growls before ending the call. 

Viktor sighs, throwing the phone onto his bed so he can properly stuff his foot into his sneaker. 

Viktor is, by no means, someone who likes to be up early but Yura does, but Viktor is nothing if not a good brother. Well, the best he can be at least. He had insisted he take the course with Yura as moral support. Besides, Viktor had bought up, he only lived a few minutes from Yura’s dorm rooms so they would be able to walk together to campus. He offered for Yura to live with him, but the younger boy had insisted he was independent and didn't need his brother to coddle him at every waking moment, which Viktor knows he's prone to do. 

And so, the two of them had decided to attend Takahashi-sensei’s 10 o’clock intermediate Japanese course together, the two having picked up bits of the language due to Viktor’s frequent traveling as a (now retired) figure skater. He’s beginning to regret the decision now, his eyes still heavy with sleep. 

It takes him roughly ten minutes to get himself ready in the bathroom, skipping out on about half of his face routine and throwing on whatever he could find on the floor. Viktor stares at himself in the mirror and sighs. He looks ridiculous, with untied shoelaces and a crumpled button down that he didn't want to iron at the risk of Yura’s incessant shouting that he was late to make himself look nice. Well, he thinks, using his fingers to run through his bangs, at least my hair looks nice. 

On any other day, Viktor could have cared less about missing one day of class. He's done it before and he would happily do it again, but this was the day of Takahashi-sensei’s infamous pre-final review session and Viktor would be damned if he missed the most important class of the term. Sans the final in two days. 

He carefully steps over Makkachin’s tail, wary of disturbing the sleepy dog and walks out of his apartment. He silently closes the door behind him, taking a glance at his watch as he makes his way towards the elevator. 

He looks back up from his watch to press the button on the elevator door when-

_ BAM! _

-he runs straight into the pile of boxes that someone had left right in front of the elevator doors. 

_ Ah _ , Viktor amends, catching sight of two legs underneath the boxes that seem to almost reach his height.  _ A person holding boxes.  _

Viktor pushed this thought to the side as he scrambles to catch the box-holder-person before he can come crashing on the unforgiving floors of the corridor. 

Good news: He is able to keep one of the boxes from meeting an early doom, thanking his quick reflexes as he catches it with a small “oof”. Bad news: The box-holder-person doesn't meet as lucky if a fate. 

Viktor hears a groan ( _ a man’s voice _ , he thinks belatedly) from underneath where the boxes are now opened, its contents scattered around and on top of the man. 

“Are you okay?” Viktor asks, moving the boxes to one side. There are various clothing items and books still on the floor, which Viktor makes a note to pick up later. 

“Yeah,” The man says, rubbing his head as he gets up and that's when Viktor notices-

“Beautiful,” he sighs. 

The man stares at him. “Uh, what?”

Viktor blinks. Once. Twice. “Nothing!”

He extends a hand for the other man to grab. The man is wearing thick blue rimmed glasses and a headband to push his bangs away from his face. There's a light sheen of sweat on the man’s forehead. His cheeks are flushed from exertion. 

Viktor’s never seen a cuter person in his life. 

The man holds it as Viktor helps him haul himself up. “Thanks,” the man mumbles. 

“I'm Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor supplies, wanting to give a name to the gorgeous face he's just laid eyes on. 

“Yuuri Katsuki,”  _ Yuuri _ says, adjusting his glasses. He doesn't look Viktor in the eyes. 

“Are you moving in?” Viktor asks after a moment. He begins to reach for the fallen items, putting them back in any empty space he sees in the boxes. 

“Oh- you don't have to do that,” Yuuri says, taking the books out of Viktor's hand. “I got it...um...yeah, to your question. I’m moving into 404.”

Viktor smiles, his mouth falling into a heart shape. “I live in 405! We're neighbors!”

Yuuri let's a small smile grace his lips, and Viktor fights the urge to whine because his heart _ can't take it.  _

Unfortunately, it only lasts for a moment as Yuuri realizes something that makes it disappear. “Oh! I'm so sorry. You were headed somewhere before I ran into you, wasn't you? Sorry, go ahead.” Yuuri shuffles out of the way, kicking a box away from the elevator door. He places the books he was holding on top of it. 

For one moment, Viktor thinks that he should weigh his options. In the next, he's pulling out his phone to shoot Yura a  _ Go on without me  _ text. He turns his phone off to prevent any more calls from coming. “No,” he finally answers. “It was just grocery shopping. Nothing important.”

Yuuri eyes him suspiciously. “Really? You look like you left in a hurry.”

At that, Viktor blushes. 

“Not that you look bad or anything!” Yuuri quickly says, waving his hands around. “You just- I just- you don't  _ not  _ look good, it's- I mean-”

Viktor doesn't know how many times he thought this man was cute in the mere five minutes he's known him. “I get it,” Viktor says, smiling. “But I really wasn't going anywhere important. I can help you move in if you’d like,” he offers. 

Yuuri’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- I don't want to force you...”

“You wouldn't be forcing me,” Viktor replies easily. “But we should probably get these boxes out of the way before someone complains about a fire hazard.”

“Right.” Together, the two of them begin to pick up the fallen boxes. Viktor picks up three of them, leaving Yuuri with the other two. He begins to walk in the direction of his own apartment, letting giddiness engulf him at the prospect of being neighbors with this adorable man. 

“So Yuuri,” Viktor says, craning his neck a bit to look behind him. “Where are you from? Are you moving in with anyone? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?” Read:  _ Are you single? _

“N-no! That’s not it.” Yuuri’s cheeks grow redder. “Um, Japan, to answer your first question. I’ve lived in America for a few years now.  I’m moving in alone. I had a roommate in my old apartment but this place happens to be convenient,” Yuuri responds. “I work only a few blocks away so...”

“You work? Where?”

“It’s just a part time thing at the ballet studio. I go when I have time to help the kids.”

Viktor swoons. “You dance?”

Yuuri makes a noise of agreement. “I was a lot more active a few years ago but recently...”

Viktor must have misjudged when to turn the corner because he hears Yuuri gasp out:

“Wait Viktor! Watch-”

And then:

_ SMACK _ !

As Viktor loses his footing, he can't help but think  _ not again _ . 

He drops the boxes he’s holding, tripping on his own feet and falls backwards. He groans at the immediate pain that surrounded his head once it made contact with the floor. 

Yuuri puts his own boxes down and takes one look at Viktor and bursts out giggling, turning his head away to try and disguise it as a cough.

“Viktor pouts. “How mean,” he complains. “This is the worst kind of deja vu.” He doesn't mind, not really, since he got to hear Yuuri’s laugh for the first time. 

“And we haven't even gotten inside the front door yet,” Yuuri comments. He smiles at Viktor, who smiles back dorkily. 

Viktor ends up missing the session and promising an angry Yura lunch for a week to make up for it. He also gets an 89 on his final. 

He can't help but think it was worth it. 

-

The lunch meetings with Yuri, although they made a considerable dent in Viktor's pocket money, are nice. Viktor, outside of their Japanese class, which was over now anyways, doesn't often get the chance to simply hang out with his brother. Both are busy people, Yura with school and Viktor with taking care of Makkachin and keeping up public appearances. Viktor had yet to try and find a way to make a living. He had made enough money from ice skating that he didn't need to be looking for jobs anytime soon. The coach at the local ice rink was planning to retire soon, something that Viktor notes to look into once it happens. 

So yes, Viktor thinks that life is going swimmingly at the moment. 

The only thing that sours Viktor's mood is the lack of sightings of Yuuri Katsuki throughout. He wonders what Yuuri does for a living. Or maybe Yuuri still goes to school. He only looks a little younger than Viktor does, after all. 

“If I hear about this,” Yura puts up air quotes and changes his voice to a falsetto. “ _ ‘gorgeous Japanese man _ ’ one more time I'm going to go to him and evict him myself.”

Viktor pouts. “But  _ Yura _ . I haven't seen him in _ so long _ . What if he forget about me? He probably never wants to talk to me again after I dropped his boxes. Yura what do I  _ do _ ?”

“You shut up and leave me alone,” Yura replies, finishing the last of his meal and dropping his fork with a thud. “I'm leaving. I have a chemistry final to study for.”

“Didn't you say you would rather eat frogs before you looked at a page in your chemistry books?”

Yuri gets up, letting his chair wobble precariously at the force and slowly settling down. “ _ Anything _ is better than listening to you fawn over a guy with the same name as me.”

Viktor whines. 

-

The next time that Viktor sees his new neighbor is the next day, when he's coming back from the grocery store ( _ for real this time _ ) with several packs of instant ramen. 

Yuuri is walking out of his apartment in what looks like his pajamas. Which makes no sense since the sun was only beginning to set. But Viktor can’t complain when Yuuri is in a black, tight fitting shirt that shows off his soft feature, and pajama pants with doodles of a poodle decorating them. 

“Yuuri!” Viktor exclaims. He’s sure there is a heart shaped He notices Yuuri jump a little before looking at Viktor. 

“You remember my name?” Yuuri looks shocked, and then shakes his head. “Never mind. How are you, Viktor?”

Viktor tries not to think about the way Yuuri’s mouth moves when he’s saying VIktor’s name. “Why wouldn't I remember you?” Viktor puts on his most offended face.

Yuuri lets out an awkward laugh and scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I’m not really that memorable. Just your average guy.” He shrugs.

Viktor gapes. To think that Yuuri would describe himself as just  _ average _ was almost as insulting as Yura saying that Viktor was balding. “In that case, where are you headed Average-Guy-Yuuri?”

Yuuri smiles. “To buy dinner. I haven’t really unpacked too much yet so I have no cutlery out.”

“It’s kind of late for dinner.”

Yuuri nods sheepishly. “Yes, I was kind of busy all-”

And before Viktor can think about what he’s saying: “Have dinner with me.” He winces, remembering about the contents of the bag in his hands. He doesn’t take back what he says, though. 

Yuuri shakes his head. “I don’t want to be too much of a bother. You already helped me move my boxes in.”

“I insist. Just come by my room in an hour or so, and we can eat together. Besides you look exhausted.”

Yuuri flushes. Viktor is almost pleased with how little it takes to get the man to do so. “I was up for most of the night helping my sister work out a business issue. She’s in Japan so the time difference makes things difficult.”

“That’s so nice of you! You must love your sister a lot,” Viktor says. 

“I miss her a lot. She keeps insisting that she’ll visit soon but so far, our timetables haven’t been kind to us.”

Viktor feels a pang of sympathy. “I know how you feel. I barely get to see my brother at all these days?”

Yuuri perks up. “You have a brother?”

“Yep! He has the same name as you, actually. Yuri. But I call him Yura. It’s a nickname.” 

“That’s nice. So, if you are still okay with that dinner...”

“More than okay.”

“I’m going to go back in and change then. I’ll go to your apartment in an hour or so?”

Viktor nods. “That sounds great! I’ll see you then,” he says, giving Yuuri a mock salute. 

And then he remembers; he needs to buy food.  _ Real _ food. Something to impress Yuuri. Something like... he doesn’t know. “Wait, Yuuri!”

Yuuri pauses, halfway into the room. “Yes?”

“Is there something you want to eat in particular?”

Yuuri shakes his head. “I’m sure whatever you have will be perfect.”

Viktor forces a smile. “Aha... quite the compliment there, Yuuri.”

The man in question gives him a smile in return before finally entering his apartment and closing the door. 

Viktor bites the inside of his cheek. He can’t cook to save his life. Which was why his habit of eating out for every other meal came from necessity rather than laziness. He could, of course,  _ learn _ how to cook, but the last time he attempted making anything remotely dinner-worthy, he ended up spilling two bottles of sriracha on the white carpet of his living room. How the bottles got there he would never know. 

_ Think Viktor _ .  _ If I was a hot, sexy, gorgeous, young Japanese man, what would I want to eat _ ? Viktor hums in thought. Japanese food seemed to be a good bet. He pulls out his phone and looks through the variety of recipes that are offered. The ingredients shouldn’t be too hard to find at the store, Viktor presumes. 

It was simple. Viktor should be done before Yuuri even steps out of his door.

-

Viktor was wrong. So,  _ so _ wrong. 

The preparation itself was not terrible. Cut some pork, crack an egg, heat up leftover rice. It was the presentation that was giving Viktor a headache. The pork, instead of thinly sliced, had become thick chunks after Viktor had accidentally cut himself. Viktor had scrambled the eggs to the point where they looked more like bread crumbs. And to top it all off, he underestimated just how hot the rice was after it was cooked and burned his hand when he grabbed for the bowl it was sitting in. 

And Yuuri was supposed to arrive in roughly three minutes. 

Thankfully, Makkachin is asleep in the living room so he doesn’t have to worry about her knocking something over accidentally and creating a bigger mess. Quickly, he plates the food into something somewhat presentable and piles the (embarrassingly large) amount of plates he used into the sink. He begins to use a paper towel to wipe down the tables. 

A minute to the hour, Viktor hears the doorbell ring. He curses under his breath. 

He hears a muffled, “Viktor? It’s Yuuri, are you in there?”

“Coming!” Without bothering to take his apron off, he opens the door, plastering a bright heart-shaped smile at the person on the other side. “Yuuri! I was waiting for you!” 

Viktor’s heart stops as he takes in Yuuri’s outfit. An extremely baggy shirt hangs of Yuuri’s shoulders and shorts that stopped right above his thighs. He tears his eyes away from Yuuri’s thick thighs and looks back up at the man. “Come in.”

He steps aside to let Yuuri in. The shorter man takes three steps in before a small gasp emits from his mouth. 

“You have a dog?” Viktor thinks he sees stars in Yuuri’s eyes.

“Yep! That’s the joy of my life, Makkachin. She’s the best dog I could have asked for.” He winks.

Yuuri has a hand over his mouth. “She’s beautiful. I’d love to formally meet her next time..”

_ Next time!!!! ! ! _ Viktor suppresses a grin at the words. 

Then, Yuuri makes a strange face, taking a deep breath. “Wait, what’s that smell. It smells like...”

Oh, right. Dinner. “I made katsudon!” Viktor beams.

“You... you did?” Yuuri squints. “ _ Please _ tell me that you didn't go out of your way to buy the ingredients and make this just for me.”

“Okay then, I won’t,” Viktor replies enthusiastically.

Yuuri groans, slipping off his flip flops by the entrance. 

Yuuri tentatively puts a spoonful in his mouth. When Viktor notices Yuuri’s chewing slow down, and his face tense up, he tries not to deflate too obviously. 

“Sorry if it doesn’t taste authentic,” Viktor laughs out, bringing a hand to run through his hair. 

Yuuri looks up, and he sees Yuuri’s eyes catching sight of his bandage-covered fingertips. He hurriedly clasps his hands behind his back. “It’s okay if you don’t like it,” he insists, refusing to let the sadness seep into his voice. 

Yuuri shakes his head immediately. “I love it. Really, Viktor. I don’t think I’ve ever had a neighbor who tried so hard for someone they just met before.”

Viktor feels his cheeks grow hot. “Ah, I guess I’m special then.”

Yuuri grins and Viktor tries not to swoon. “I guess you are.”

He looks down at the plate of food. “But what should we do for dinner then. This food is uneatable.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much,” Yuuri says smiling. “As for food, I went to this really good pizza place two nights ago. We can order in?”

Viktor smiles back. “I like the sound of that.”

-

To Viktor’s delight, the two of them begin to hang out a lot more after this incident. Mainly in Viktor’s apartment so Yuuri can play with Makkachin. Luckily, Viktor has been able to avoid embarrassing himself for two weeks. But with his luck, the streak was bound to break sooner rather than later. 

The third time (not that he has been counting) that Viktor makes a complete fool of himself in front of the prettiest man he’s ever seen, he’s knocking the door to Yuuri’s apartment to ask if he has any spare double A batteries.

When Yuuri opens the door, there’s a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead. In his hand...why was he holding a lightbulb?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor starts, stepping into the apartment. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Changing a lightbulb,” Yuuri says, holding up the one in his hand. “Except... I can’t reach the burnt out light.” He points at the center of the room, where there is a stepping stool right underneath a light fixture.

“Who on earth decided that these ceilings should be so high,” Yuuri mutters. 

“You know...  you could have just asked me if you couldn’t reach it. I would have been more than happy to help.”

“You’re a busy man, I’m sure. I’m not going to burden you with all of my life’s issues.” Yuuri frowns, making his way back up the stool. “And besides, I can reach it if I’m trying hard enough,” he insists, reaching up once more on his tiptoes, the stool wobbling precariously.

When it becomes clear to both himself and Viktor that he, in fact, can not reach it, he lets out a breath and lets the soles of his feet fall back on the chair. “You’re only a few inches taller, Viktor. I don’t think you can reach it either.”

“I’ve changed my lightbulbs before, Yuuri. Usually not with a stepping stool though.”

Yuuri blushes. “I usually do work on my bed so I never saw the need 

“And where are the chairs for your dining room?”

“Viktor, please. Do you  _ see _ a dining table anywhere?”

Viktor looks around.  “No...but...”

“What am I supposed to do with one when I live all alone?” Yuuri says. 

“What about the chair you have in the kitchen?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes. “If I stood on the barstool I’d hit my head on the ceiling.” 

“Then why don’t you just let me try?”

It takes a few more seconds before Yuuri finally relents with a shrug, stepping off of the stepping stool and presenting it to Viktor with a wave of his hand. “Be my guest.”

Viktor cracks his knuckles and goes to where Yuuri is. Yuuri silently hands him the light bulb. He steps up the stepladder carefully, wary of the way it creaks and shakes under his weight.

He goes up on the tips of his feet and reaches for the light bulb. He manages to grab it and twist it, only to run out of breath and stand regularly again with a sigh. However, the slight movement caused the dust on the lightbulb to “loosen up”. 

The dust sprinkles down like...well, dust. Viktor begins to feel his nose twitch.  _ Please, no _ , Viktor begs. But it’s too late. He let’s out the most obnoxious, loud, nasally sneeze known to man and-

The stepladder falls, taking Viktor with it.

Viktor groans as he hits the ground hard, feeling pain shoot up his left leg.

“Oh my gosh, Viktor, are you okay?!” Yuuri is besides him in an instant, hands fluttering over Viktor's body as if he's unsure if he can touch. 

_ Always _ , Viktor wants to say,  _ your always allowed to touch.  _

“Oh god... it looks like you twisted it.” Both Yuuri and Viktor make a pained face.  “You need an ambulance. Or maybe I should just drive you ... the ambulance would take too long and...”

“Driving,” Viktor says, pulling his knees closer to him. He doesn’t think it's bad enough to waste that much money on an ambulance.. “Can you... ring up my brother?” He manages to say through clenched teeth. “I don’t want him to suddenly find out I’m at the hospital.”

Yuuri nods. “Yeah, sure.” He watches with a grimace as Yuuri picks up the phone from the kitchen island and fumbles with it for a bit. “Viktor...”

Viktor looks at him expectantly and tries to ignore the increasingly painful throbbing in his right ankle. He bites back a pained moan. 

Yuuri spares him a sympathetic glance. He points at the phone. “Uh... Your phone’s language is set to Russian. I don’t know which contact is Yuri.”

“It should be the most recent one. I don’t really call too many other people. Besides you,” he adds as an afterthought.

Yuuri’s flushes but follows what Viktor says, pressing the contact and holding the phone up next to his ear. 

Viktor can only hear Yuuri’s side of the conversation, but it’s easy to tell what’s being said on the other end. He clutches his knee closer to his chest and groans at the movement. 

“Hello, is this Yuri Nikiforov? This is Viktor’s neighbor, Yuuri... Kind of... He fell down and from the looks of it, twisted his ankle...,” Yuuri pauses to hold the phone a few inches away from his ear as Yuri’s yelling begins. When the noise calms down Yuuri puts the phone back against his ear. “Yes that one...I can text you the address if you'd like...Okay, good-” Yuuri blinks and looks at Viktor. “He hung up.” 

Viktor nods. “He does that sometime.”

“I'll call the hospital,” Yuuri says, pulling out his own phone 

Viktor begins to look around the room to find things to distract himself from the pain.  _ Oh those are some nice pictures on the wall,  _ he thinks. Yuuri was skinner and some and chubbier in some. Viktor thinks all the Yuuris are wonderful. And are those dust bunnies? Yuuri should really consider a vacuum. And... Viktor pales when his eyes finally latch onto the state of his foot. Oh wow. That was... an odd angle for his foot to be in. It was... actually really gross. He feels lightheaded.

“Viktor...Viktor!” Yuuri's worried voice rows more distant, like he's calling Viktor from underwater. Or maybe from a spaceship. Distantly, he thinks about the batteries he needed. The reason he came here in the first place. 

Viktor promptly passed out.  

-

When Viktor comes to, the first thing he feels is his right ankle and half of his foot surrounded by a thick material and propped higher than the rest of his body. A nurse is standing next to him, adjusting something on the monitor. It’s too bright. 

He lets out a pitiful sound. 

The nurse turns to look at him. “Good afternoon.”

“How long was I out?”

“About two hours. It’s four in the afternoon. You have a twisted ankle.” The nurse continues to tell him more about his condition that he is only half listening to. “How long do I have to be in the hospital?”

“We can let you out tonight. The braces stay on for two weeks. I recommend keeping pressure off of it for as long as possible.”

There’s a harsh knock at the door. The nurse looks surprised for a moment before she seems to realize something and turn to Viktor. “Ah, I forgot to mention. There are two men waiting outside for you? Would you like to see them?”

Viktor nods. “Yes, please.”

The nurse nods back before stepping back outside. Not a minute later, the door is thrown back open to reveal a pissed off looking Yura and a bright red Yuuri. 

“Can’t believe you broke your leg,” Yuri mutters. 

“Actually just my ankle,” Viktor says back.

Viktor frowns, finally taking into account Yuuri’s reddened face. “Hey Yuuri...”

Both men in the room look at Viktor. Viktor bites at his lip. “One of you needs a nickname...”He brings a finger to his bottom lip in thought. “Yura, you can be Yurio!” 

Yura’s jaw clenches but he doesn't say anything more on the matter. Had this been a few years ago, Viktor recalls fondly, Yurio would have been screaming in his face about it. 

“Well?” Yurio says impatiently. “Who were you talking to?”

Viktor snaps. “Yuuri. Did Yurio say something to you, Yuuri?” He cocks his head.

“N-no!” Yuuri shakes his head vehemently. “Why... Why do you ask?”

Viktor makes a circular motion around his face. “You’re blushing. Like, a lot.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen and he presses his palms to his cheek as if to hide them. “I just feel really hot, that’s all. A-anyways, how are you feeling?”

Viktor smiles at the sheer adorableness of it all. “Better now that you’re here.” Viktor winks. If possible, Yuuri’s face grows even redder. Next to him, Yuri gags. 

“Can you please not be lovesick while I’m in the same room?”

“My dearest Yurio, how you hurt me,” Viktor gasps out dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “I don’t think my heart can take much more of this.”

Yuri rolls his eyes at Viktor’s antics. “Whatever. Oi, you,” he says turning to Yuuri, “don't forget about what I said.”

Yuuri gives Yuri a scandalized look but nods. 

Yuri makes another grunt and walks back out. Viktor hears a soft “Take care of yourself, idiot Viktor” just loud enough to reach him. 

Before Viktor can attempt to get up and appropriately glomp him in affection, the door is shut and it's just Yuuri and Viktor.

He catches Yuuri fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I don't think I've ever seen you  _ this _ nervous around me,” Viktor muses. “What exactly did Yurio say to throw you this off-guard?”

“I told you, he said nothing.” Yuuri insists. 

Viktor purses his lips, but decides to drop the subject. But before he can say anything else-

“You need rest,” Yuuri says.

“What? It’s just a twisted ankle. I’ll be better in no time.”  _ Please stay _ , Viktor pleads silently.

Yuuri, however, is already shaking his head. “I’ll come visit you tomorrow. I can watch Makkachin for you?”

Viktor frowns. “Okay...Tomorrow then.”

Yuuri nods. “Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. 

-

Yuuri was never supposed to find Viktor’s trophy room. Viktor had put a wall to divide a guest room into two smaller rooms; an emergency closet (for those emergency outfits when he’s running late; which is quite often) and behind that, his trophy room. Viktor had kept it hidden because...well, he doesn’t really know why. He supposes that he should be proud of his achievements. Should want everyone to know  _ hello, you are in the home of a skating  _ champion. 

But with Yuuri... he doesn't want him to know. Viktor doesn’t know when it became something that was a secret. He’s not sure if Yuuri has made him more humble, but it's more likely that with Yuuri, he doesn’t need figure skating anymore. He loves it, and will always want to come back to the ice, but if Yuuri’s around, he thinks that he can finally resolve that chapter of his life. He’s not sure yet.

In any case, Yuuri was never, ever,  _ ever _ supposed to find it. 

“Isn’t there supposed to be another bedroom to this apartment. Why is it so small? And filled with your clothes?” Yuuri asks, holding open the door to his closet. 

Viktor’s eyes widen. His only relief is the amount of clothes Yuuri would have to get through before seeing the other door. Hopefully, Yuuri runs out of patience sooner. “Wait. How do you know?”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Because we have the same apartment plan?”

Right.

“Wait, did you turn this into a  _ closet _ ? Was your first one not big enough?” Yuuri asks incredulously. 

“Haha, yeah,” Viktor says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Just... too much clothes, you know?”

“Right.” 

The two spend a good deal of time looking through Viktor’s outfits. Mainly with Yuuri commentating on his fashion sense. And then all of Viktor’s worst fears (Were they fears? Apprehensions? Viktor honestly just doesn’t know.)

“Hey Viktor,” Yuuri says. Viktor turns to Yuuri. His face slackens. “What is this door?”

“Um, nothing. You don’t want to open that,” he says hurriedly.

“Why what’s in it?”

“Um. Stuff. Like... sex toys?” Viktor grimaces. “Actually, not that. Um... just some garbage I’ve been meaning to throw away...”

Yuuri gives him a strange look. “Can I... open it?”

Viktor sighs. No use hiding it now. “Go ahead.”

“If you  _ really  _ don’t want me opening it, I-”

“No, no. Please. I want to be completely honest with you.”

“You’re kind of scaring me now, Viktor.”

“Just... open it.”

Yuuri nods, uncertain. “O...kay...”

The door opens.

“Holy crap.” Yuuri’s mouth also opens. “This is a lot of medals.”

“I guess.”

“You  _ guess _ ?” Yuuri waves his hands around the room. He points at one of the medals. “Is that an Olympics medal?” He asks weakly. 

Viktor gives a sheepish smiles. “Yeah? I, uh...” Come one, Viktor. Words. “I used to figure skate.”

“You.. You’re a famous figure skater, then?” Yuuri gapes. Viktor can only nod. “And your bothering only now to tell me?” His voice rises higher with every word. 

Viktor shrugs. “It never seemed like a right time to tell you. I didn’t want to scare you off with my so-called fame.”

“I wouldn’t say winning the  _ Olympics _ is just ‘so-called’ fame,” Yuuri says. He picks up a medal and examines it. “Why did you retire?”

Viktor turns to look at Yuuri. “I was bored, if I'm being really honest. I loved ice skating, and I still do, but I didn't know what my purpose was on the ice. My skating had no life. No matter how much I won. So I just... retired.”

Yuuri nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. 

Viktor keeps talking. Times like these, he wishes he had a shut off switch. “I think if I had met you a few years ago, I would have had something to skate for.”

Yuuri makes a strangled noise. “V-Viktor, you can’t just  _ say _ things like that!”

“Why not?” Viktor says, stepping forward. They were a few feet apart now.  _ Too far.  _

“Because... Because it implies -”

Another step. “Implies what, Yuuri?” He smirks. “That I-” Viktor stops abruptly and presses his mouth to his hand as a pained gasp escapes. His pinky had conveniently chosen right then and there to bang as hard as it could against his trophy shelf.

Yuuri’s embarrassed look immediately turns into one of concern. “Viktor? Viktor, are you okay?”

“Um..Yeah.” Viktor chides himself for the hoarseness of his voice. And the fact that he just completely ruined what was going to be his confession to the most gorgeous man on Earth. “Just... stubbed my toe on the shelves.” He takes a deep breath.

Yuuri makes a strange face, and Viktor is going to comment on it, when all of a sudden he starts giggling. He presses a hand to his stomach as the beautiful sound echoes through the room. 

Viktor can’t even be mad at Yuuri for laughing at him when he looks so ethereal while doing it. 

The setting sun’s light was filtering through the window, basking Yuuri’s face in a warm glow. Makkachin was panting happily by his feet, the gold medals glistening. Yuuri was smiling, small giggles escaping whenever he thinks of Viktor’s (painful) predicament. Viktor thinks that Yuuri has never looked better than in that moment. 

Oh, who was he kidding? Yuuri  _ always _ looks like a gift from the gods himself. He’s beautiful and perfect and amazing and cute and -

“Yuuri.” Viktor tries to ignores the throbbing in his pinky toe.  “I like you.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “I should hope so. I’m here more than I am in my own house.”

Viktor’s heart flutters at the words. “No, no. Not like that.”

“Then like what?” Yuuri’s face is adorably confused.

Viktor sighs inwardly. Blunt was what he does best, after all.  “I mean. I  _ like _ you. Like, I want to do non-friend activities with you. And stuff” 

_ What a smooth talker _ , Viktor thinks. Of all the ways he could have said it. 

Yuuri turns red. “ _ Oh _ . Oh. Um...”

The silence seems to stretch for years.

“Well?”

“Um.. me too. Do those things. With you. Too.”

Immediately, the worry from Viktor’s expression is gone, replaced by a heart shaped smile. “Really? You want to be my boyfriend?”

Yuuri grows even redder (like at the hospital, Viktor recalls) and nods. “I... I would like that.”

“Let’s go on a date, Yuuri! There’s this great Asian fusion place I know!”

“Right now?”

As his hand curls around Yuuri’s (a perfect match, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle), he can’t help but think that this is, objectively speaking, one of the best moments in his life. As Yuuri’s fingers thread through his own, he can’t help but think that his life is only going to get better from here. 

**Author's Note:**

> so...many....plot holes.....good night....good bye....  
> call me beep me if ya wanna reach me @ [viktnikiforov](http://viktnikiforov.tumblr.com/)


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